


falling around you

by vindicatedtruth (behindtintedglass)



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 12:21:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11081496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/behindtintedglass/pseuds/vindicatedtruth
Summary: "Why do you keep walking away, John?"





	falling around you

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this devastatingly beautiful song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UdVH8FnG2sQ). I highly recommend listening to it for maximum feels.

 

 

“Why do you keep walking away, John?”

“I can’t seem to do that when you keep on catching up with me.”

“You answered my call.”

“I will _always_ answer your call.  I never know when you might be in danger, Harold.”

“And yet after you save me, you walk away.”

“My job is done.”

“Tell me, Mr. Reese… do I have to keep putting myself in danger in order for you to stay?”

“ _Don’t say that._ ”

“I just find it… immensely sad that you’ll stay only when I’m dying.”

“Damn it, Harold, I walk away from you so that _you don’t have to die._ ”

“In our line of work, Mr. Reese—”

“Sooner or later we’ll both end up dead, I _know_ , Harold.  I’d just rather it’ll be _me._ ”

“So you’d rather be the murderer yourself?”

“… What?”

“Do you even realise, _John_ , how watching you walk away from me is exactly what’s killing me?”

“You’re just used to me, Harold.  You’ve survived this long without me.”

“And yet I find myself unwilling to live without you, not after knowing you.”

“You _need_ me Harold, that’s what you’re used to.”

“… Yes.  I do.  Just... perhaps not in the way you think.”

“And what do I think, _Finch_ , since you know absolutely _everything_ about me?”

“You think I need you for your skills.  For protection.”

“Well, isn’t that what you hired me for?”

“I did.  I just never expected that you’ll be… protecting something else.  Something much more important than my life.”

“ _There’s nothing more important than your life._ ”

“Yes, there is.  To me.   And that’s what you’re failing to protect, by walking away from me, again and again.”

“Oh do tell, Harold.  Tell me one more thing I’ve failed to protect, the way I’ve always been a failure _all my life._ ”

“… I suppose it isn’t your fault.  You thought it was just my life you’re holding in your hands when in fact you’re in possession of something much, much more precious to me.”

“ … What do I have, Finch?”

“My heart, Mr. Reese.  You never knew… that you’ve always had it.  And… I’m sorry, because I never intended for you to have the burden of carrying it.” 

“Harold—I thought—Grace—or even _Nathan—_ ”

“I loved them, John.  I loved them with all my heart.  But no one has ever been in possession of it, not like this.  Not until—”

“When did you know?”

“That I love you?”

“… Harold.  _When did you know_?”

“Before I even met you, Mr. Reese.  I told you, I knew exactly everything about you.”

“You’re in love with a _murderer_?  A traitor to the country?  Do you even realise you fell in love with a _file_?”

“I fell in love with the person who saved Daniel Casey’s life.”

“… _Harold._ ”

“I knew, even then, exactly who you are, John.”

“And who am I, Harold?  Tell me, when I don’t even know who I am, anymore.”

“A good man, John.”

“Then why, Harold?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why did you keep pushing me away?  Why did it take you so long to even admit that you _like_ Eggs Benedict, just so you won’t have to tell me where you _live?_ ”

“Mr. Reese—”

 _“Why didn’t you trust me_? _”_

“I was protecting you, John.  From _myself_.”

“You’re clearly underestimating my ability to defend myself from you.  I can disappear if I want to.”

“Oh, but you’re underestimating _me_ , Mr. Reese.  I’m afraid of… what I can do to you.”

“Finch, believe me when I say that there’s nothing you can ask of me that I’m not willing to _give_.”

“ _Exactly,_ Mr. Reese.  That’s _exactly_ what I’ve been trying all this time to protect you from, because I’m afraid—”

“… Harold?”

“… I’m sorry, John.  I’m so, so sorry.”

“What are you afraid of, Harold?  Are you… are you afraid of _me_?”

“I’m afraid of _myself_ , John.”

“That’s funny, because you’re the one person in the world with whom I feel safe.  And I’ve been around the world.”

“… _John._ ”

“Let me ask you again, Harold.  _What are you afraid of_?”

“I’m afraid I need you too much, John.  I find myself… aching when you’re away.  I need to always know where you are, if you’re safe, if you’re _happy_.  I need to know that you’re taken care of, that you’re protected, that you have everything you can ever want and need, and more.  I need to… see your smile every morning, and to hear you breathe soundly into sleep at night.  I need to see you… across from me, eating with me, and I need to see every show here in New York City with you, and I need to see you walking every afternoon in the park with Bear, playing with him with all your guards down, the way you so very rarely are.  I need to see the laugh lines crinkling around your eyes, because each time I see you smile somehow your eyes look brighter and you look impossibly younger, like the man you used to be before this world broke you, the man I wish I was able to save a lot earlier so I could have had longer years with you, because I want to spend the rest of what’s left of my life with you.  I need—”

“… Harold.”

“ _John._ ”

“What do you need, Harold?  Tell me.”

“John, I beg of you, don’t make me—”

“ _Please._ ”

“I need… I need to _touch_ you, John.  I need… to know what your smile tastes like, what your tongue tastes like, what your teeth feels like against my skin.  I need… to feel your calluses, to know what it’s like to be _handled_ by you, the way you handle your guns, with proficiency when you use them and with reverence when you care for them.  I need… to be _used_ like that, by you, knowing you’ll care for me like that, too.  I need… your hands on my body, knowing that no matter how broken it already is, I would much rather be completely taken apart by you, because you’re the only one who has always been able to put me back together.  I need to know… what your voice sounds like when you come, and what you look like when I come down your throat, and how it feels like when we come together, when you thrust against me, when I spill myself inside you, when we taste each other at the same time.  I need to know every single one of your scars and catalogue each one, even though I’ll never be able to erase them, but at the very least I can cover each one with my lips and teeth and tongue, marking each one as my own to care for now, to replace the old memories you’ve had in getting them with new memories of me loving them.  I need to feel you trembling against me, knowing you trust in me enough to let me hold you throughout all of it, and I need to hear you breathe against me, and hold you all night, knowing that in my arms, you’re protected, and safe, and cherished, and _loved_ , knowing that when the morning comes, I get to show you all over again.”

“… Anything else?”

“I need to know you’re _mine_ , John, because the thought of someone else getting to share all of this with you makes me physically ill, and I have to stop myself from tracking down anyone who might take an interest in you because it’s ethically _wrong_ to invade someone’s privacy just because I want to make sure that… that they’re _worthy_ of you, that they will… they will love you _better_ than I ever can, even though I doubt there’s anyone out there who can love you _more_ than I do—” 

“Harold, the fact that you still believe it’s possible for me to think about _anyone else_ , is hysterical to me.”

“ _I’m not joking, John._ ”

“Neither am I.  Do you even have any idea, Harold?  You’re larger than life.  You’re brighter than the sun.  You’re my gravity.  I keep falling into you.”

“… John.”

“What do you need, Harold?”

“I need you to know that I’m _yours_.  Every part.  Even all the broken, irredeemable parts of me, it’s yours, if you will have it.”

“Good.  Because I don’t share.”

“… John?”

“There’s only one thing I need you to do for me, Harold.”

“Anything, Mr. Reese.  Anything at all.”

“I need you to end this call.”

“I… what?”

“And I need you to open the door.”

“ _What?_ John _,_ you… you’re _here?”_

 _“_ Where else would I be, Harold?”

“But I thought… you already walked away.”

“And yet I find myself coming back to you.  Like I always do.”

“… Gravity.”

“Seems like I’m not the only one falling, Harold.  Might as well fall together, don’t you think?”

“And what happens when I let you in, John?”

“… _Don’t let me go_.”

 

 


End file.
